Will to Live
by Kyndeyrn
Summary: After Draco's death, Harry struggles to find the will to live. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, would I really be this broke?

A/N: I've been feeling rather angsty of late so I wrote this.

**Will to Live**

Emptiness. Pain. Alone. Hard cold raindrops beat down on Harry, plastering his T-shirt to his saturated body. Water trickled down his face, dripping from his ebony hair as he gazed out over the lake. It was mid April and icy winds accompanied the rain, but the cold outside could not compare to the freezing void in Harry's heart.

He had not bothered to put on his robes; simply walking outside in the muggle clothes he wore on weekends when he heard the news. He had been in the middle of a charms essay when Ron had run up to him breathless and barely suppressing a smile. His face had grown unbearably brighter as he delivered the news, "Harry, mate, great news! Malfoy's been found on the astronomy tower, he's dead! Suicide I think, but-"

Harry had stood up suddenly, his face emotionless as Ron's words crashed into his brain like waves of fire. Shock. _No! Draco can't be dead! He can't be! He can't be. He can't be…_The thought had echoed through Harry's mind as he flatly refused to believe that the blonde-haired boy was dead.

Meanwhile Ron had still been talking, his voice mocking Harry's emotions, "They're still trying to sort things out, figure out what happened you know? I guess his body is in the dungeons. Just think about it, we'll never lose another match to Slytherin! Isn't this great Harry? Isn't this great? Harry…?"

Harry had brushed past him, his mind filled with a loud buzzing. Without conscious thought, his feet had taken him to the place he now stood, a slick and windswept rock at the edge of the lake. The torrent unleashing its furry around him grabbed and pushed at the normally still waters, adding its rage to the mix. He did not know how long he stood there with the storm bashing his body, it felt like years passed, years of pain and loneliness as the desire to live was driven out of him.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he whirled around slowly, his joints stiff from the cold. The hand belonged to Hermione. He features were solemn, eyes filled with pity, as she looked at him. They stood there in silence for a moment before she spoke softly, "Harry, I know you loved him…"

All of a sudden he could no longer contain himself, emotions exploded inside him as tears fell freely down his face, "I never got a chance to…to tell him," he sobbed, "He probably died thinking that…that I hated him." Hermione patted his arm as he continued, "And Ron…Ron was happy! Happy because of it!" he yelled before sinking to the ground. He drew his knees close to his chest and began to shake.

Hermione sat down next to him, putting a comforting arm around him, "Ron didn't know what he was saying, he didn't know how much Draco meant to you. All he knew was six and a half years of hatred." Harry didn't respond. Hermione sighed, "Come on, lets get you inside, you'll catch your death out here."

Harry shook his head, "Just let me die then."

Hermione stood up, "No, Harry, you're not going to die here. Not here, not now." She offered him a hand.

Harry refused stubbornly, "He was the world to me. Without him…I have nothing to live for."

"Be that as it may, Harry, the actual world still needs you. You're the only one that can defeat Voldemort, remember? If you have nothing else to live for, at least live for that." She knew it was rather low, bringing up this point, but she couldn't think of anything else that would motivate him to move.

Harry glared at her as if to say "Damn the world.", but stood up none the less, "Alright, I'm coming."

The rain had begun to let up as they walked in silence back to the castle, and a full moon shown through a hole in the clouds. Harry couldn't bear to listen to the excited buzz in the common room so he slipped upstairs unnoticed. He drew back the hangings on his bed and prepared to collapse upon it when a rolled up piece of parchment caught his eye. It rested upon his pillow and had definitely not been there when he had gotten up this morning. Slowly he picked it up and unrolled it, his heart skipping a beat as he saw that it was Draco's writing that graced the page.

_Harry, if you're reading this then it means that I have already died, as was my plan. I know you hate me and are probably rejoicing at my departure, but I implore that you read the rest of this, out of respect for the dead if nothing else. Last night I received a message from the Death Eaters. It outlined very clearly that if I did not choose to join them I would be killed. Ever since last summer my beliefs have differed from theirs, it is as if I was brought into a new light. I chose death, but at my own hand instead of by theirs. What happened last summer, you might ask. The answer: I realized I loved you. Yes, Harry, loved you. You are probably finding this an object of great humor, but I figured that you have a right to know. Goodbye Harry._

Harry stood there, stunned. He wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, but at the same time collapse and weep his soul out. A second later he did not know what he wanted. He stood there in the darkness, confusion whirling about him. A thought passed through him, a thought that drove him until the end of his days; he would kill Voldemort, even if he had to die with him, he would kill him no matter what. Harry sat down, the letter unconsciously clenched in his fist. New resolve burned in Harry's heart as fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. He would kill Voldemort. For Draco. For his love.

A/N: Yeah, weird ending, I know. Review anyway por favor? Make me less angsty. :-)


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